HEAKONA!

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXXIX, Issue 1766, 18 December 1917, Page 1

HEAKONA!

MAORI SOLDIERS LEAVE FOR CAMP. The Main Trunk thundered into the station, and most of the passengers alighted. The crowd eagerly rushed the refreshment counter or struggled for seats jtt the tea tables. They'were not really hungry; many ate in anticipation of the long night’s journey; others from force of habit; others again make a practice of punctuating the long journey with cups of tea. A party of Maori troops was ye-, turning to Narrow Neck Camp, and all their relatives had come from afar to bid them a tearful farewell. From the end of the platform where they stood came that peculiarly mournful sound, sj long-drawn Maori wail, sometimes in unison, at others in concert,"the high-pitched wail of the wahine breaking out in crescendo notes above the deeper tones bf the men. Mothers, fathers’, sisters and sweethearts were there, and the young Maori soldiers wept bitterly, as they were embraced. They stood about singly or in" little groups. A young Maori, in mufti, presumably a brolher of one of the departing heroes, leant dejectedly against the iron standard that supported the station roof, and wept bitterly. An obvious disability had prevented him becoming a soldier also. One ancient wahine, a shawl of gaudy plaid swathed about her plump person, encased in a short black frock, stood with head bowed, disconsolate, the picture of utter misery, while copious tears made shiny tracks dowif her tattooed face. A slender girl of fourteen, in a limp pink cotton frock, clung to a sturdy curly-haired young warrior, sobbing convulsively, and when he moved on to say his next good-bye she remained, her hands hanging limply beside her, with tearful eyes gazing dejectedly at the ground. A bent old man leaned heavily on his stick, tears welling from his redrimmed eyes and coursing down the furrows of his wrinkled, coppery face. A mother and son stood for several minutes nose to nose, great tears making a wet' patch on the ground where they fell. A moaning, wailing cry from each mingled in the plaintive, infinitely pathetic chorus of grief of these emotional children of nature. No veneer of civilisation hid their feelings or checked their outbursts of grief. Boys, women, old men, children, gave vent to their bursting hearts, unconscious of the curious or sympathetic eyes of the onlookers. Someone they loved was going from them —going out to fight side by side with their white brethren, to face danger and death. They were sons of an heroic race, of brave sires, of warriors, veterans of many ancient battles. Theirs was the latent in-, stinct to battle, undeveloped in the modern Maori, lying dormant through successive years of peace, but the call to arms had found them ready and willing to take their place in the fighting ranks of the Empire. A semi-circle of four soldiers and three women stood about a middleaged man-who spoke earnestly in his native tongue, his simple, expressive gestures giving emphasis to his apparent advice. His audience stood with bowed heads, sadly, utterly spent with the violent outbusts of grief which his words seemed to still. They listened with reverent attention, for the speaker seemed one in authority, and spoke with authoritative voice. Nearby a young woman wept and sobbed, clinging convulsively to her husband, a baby clutching at her skirts. “All seats, please!” The wailing broke out anew; a round of noserubbing, a frenzied embrace, and the soldiers climbed on board the train. Only two were dry-eyed and smiling; they stood apart with no relatives to see them go. There was much waving and calling of farewell messages in Maori. On that little' group of natives in far-off New Zealand the shadow of the Great War had fallen. The utter pathos of that melancholy wail as the train pulled out struck a sympathetic chord in many an European heart ; but if was soon drowned by a grinding of wheels and a rattling of couplings as the disconsolate group was left further behind and those sons of an ancient fighting race sped north to train, yes, to fight—yes, and perhaps to die —for the people who had a couple of generations before conquered them and brought progress, prosperity and civilisation to their beautiful shores..